s, we presume, not quite so
favourable. The inevitable consequence of this habit was to spoil both
master and scholars. It made the timid boy pusillanimous, while it made
the fierce more indignant and resentful. What could be the feelings of
the master who could inflict almost agony on seventeen mere children,
let the offence be what it might? Yet the offence was trifling;
troublesome behaviour to an old woman in the street. A slight reprimand,
or trivial fine, would have properly finished the affair; but then comes
the flagellation.

But our great public schools exhibit another offence; the system of
fagging alike foolish and mischievous. It only teaches the elder boys to
be tyrants, and the younger to be liars and slaves. In practice, it
promises to correct itself, by destroying the great schools. The
proprietary schools, and other institutions for the education of the
people, have uniformly discountenanced this abominable nuisance; and we
know none whose abolition would do more credit to the heads of the
church, or, if they should remain indolent on the subject, to the heads
of the legislature.

William Scott, in 1761, was sent to Oxford as a candidate for a Durham
scholarship, which he obtained, but which was perilled by a blunder of
the head of Corpus Christi college. This worthy person delivered his
opinion in this style:--"I think, gentlemen, there can be no doubt that
young Scott is by far the best scholar of them. But he has told us that
his father is a fiddler, and I do not quite like to take the son of a
fiddler into the college." The doctor was an ass for his dictum; and it
is only to be regretted that he did not live to express this impudent
opinion in our day. England is certainly growing more rational, whatever
colleges may be. Language of that sort, used in a country which boasts
that no artificial impediment can be suffered to exist in the career of
genius and virtue, would quickly meet the reception merited by its
arrogant absurdity. The "fiddler" was a blunder of the doctor for
"fitter," the local name of the coal trade.

William, in his twentieth year, became a tutor; John was intended for a
coal-merchant, but his brother desired that he should be sent to Oxford.
"Send Jack up to me," were the words; "I can do better for him here." He
was then under fifteen.

A striking anecdote marks his first starting in life. "When I left
school to go to Oxford," said Lord Eldon, "I came up from Newcastle to